


A Telltale Heart

by Light_Sunkist



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: "Sweetie you need to get away from this violence", At least theres no sexual assault, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Body Horror, Bullying, Car Accidents, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crying, Cults, Cute Ending, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Gay Panic, Help, I Made Myself Cry, Im supposed to be writing tags, M/M, My ADD also wrote it, My last fic was shitty bc my ptsd basically wrote it, Physical Therapy, Please Don't Hate Me, Religious Cults, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, This is not what my therapist advises, Travis has a good mom, Underage Drinking, Where is my adderall, help my boy, i got off track, mostly - Freeform, ow my feelings, this time, uhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-26 09:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 18,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Light_Sunkist/pseuds/Light_Sunkist
Summary: Travis Phelps is… disturbed, to say the least.[BACK ON]





	1. Blue Heartbeat

_I can hear his heart. It beats calmly. The sound appears blue to me, bluer than his one beautiful, glittering eye._

_The other eye is disgusting. Unholy and blank. Whenever it falls upon me my blood runs cold. I hate it. I would stab it out if I could. Take a knife and gouge it out. Make him perfect._

_When I walk past him, his heartbeat gets louder. Panicked. I realise I scare him. He has a right to be scared. That deafening heartbeat of his makes me want to rip out his throat with my teeth. He's so beautiful. The sickly pale skin of his neck lined with blue veins._

_Everything about him is cold and blue, but his personality is so warm. So patient. I want him. I want so desperately to sin and just have him. I want to be so close to him that his heartbeat deafens me even more than it already does._

_I'm not crazy. Absolutely not. Father says I'm sick. But Father says a lot of things. I can't hear his heartbeat. Maybe he's not really alive._

_Father cares, of course. He wants the best for me. But the sound of that heartbeat draws me away from his truth. I want to bite and scream and tear him to pieces. I want to hold the heart that drives me mad and rip it apart, bare and bloody._

_Some red would look absolutely lovely on all that blue._

_But he'll hate me. I don't want him to hate me. I want to hurt him. I want to hear him scream in agony before I cut him off._

_I'd die happy if he killed me. If the last thing I hear is his beautiful blue heartbeat I'd be fine. I want to feel that sweet agony. I wish to die at his hands._

_Looking into his glittering blue eye. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I just reaaally wanted to. But idk.


	2. Paper Note

"Amen."

It was raining this morning. Again. The dreams I had made me sick. They were disgusting. Revolting.

I went downstairs to make breakfast for myself. Why is the house so cold? Sure, yeah, it's an old house, but good Lord. No insulation? At all?

It was a miracle the place hadn't fallen down already. Father walked down the stairs, and I couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Good morning, sir."

I force a smile.

There wasn't a response, just a glance my way.

Good, that's good. He wasn't mad.

Yet.

I got all of my things together for school after breakfast. Lunch money, textbook, homework. Was that everything? Probably. Hopefully. Father's calling me form downstairs already. Dammit, no time to check anyway.

I sat in the passenger seat and looked out the window. Houses fly by, and it all feels so dull. It's all grey and sad and dull. Like all of the colour was sapped from the world. Boring.

Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like to jump out of the car and into traffic. I'd probably die. I mean, almost definitely, but what's the worst that could happen other than that?

We get to school. Father turns to me.

"How are you going to do on the test today?"

"Perfect," I mumble.

"Pardon?"

"Perfect, sir."

"Better."

I open the car door and start to step out, but he grabs me.

"Behave."

I can't breathe for a second. He squeezes hard enough to leave a hand print, I'm sure. It'll show up later.

"Have a good day, son."

"You too, sir," My voice quivers.

Father releases me, and I get out as casually as possible. The second I slam the door, he's gone.

Sometimes I think Father hates me. He always says that he does what he does for my sake, and that I should be grateful. Other families don't work like that, but he also says that they're all going to hell.

When I walk in, Larry Johnson shoves me out of the way. He's with Sally face. Larry was trying to provoke me. I want to punch him.

"What's wrong, Jesus freak? You sick or something?" He smacks the back of my head.

I slammed my heel on his toes, and I heard him yelp. It was kind of funny. I laughed, and it was also kind of funny how cruel I sounded. Larry punched me in the face. He hit the bruise that was already on my cheek.

Sally Face started trying to break us up. He touched my arm, but I smacked his hand and ran away like a coward. Fucking faggot, can't even face him like a man. Whatever, doesn't matter. I just head to my locker and put away my bag. My hair is wet from the rain. Fuck, I'm cold.

  
——————

  
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I rush around the corner and into the bathroom. Why do I have to be like this? I don't care. Fuck.

I lock myself in the stall and just hold back tears. No.

But good Lord, what I wouldn't give to have his ungodly, pale skin in my teeth. I want to have him. I want to take him.

"I've served you all my life, can I have one thing in return?" I cried softly, almost silent.

The door to the bathroom opened. Breathe. I can't breathe. I'm not breathing.

Then a knock on the stall.

"Anyone in there?"

"No duh, fuckwad."

"Travis? Were you… crying?"

Oh no. No no no no.

"S-Sally Face? No!

"I just want to talk."

"Why is that, huh? Get your faggot ass out of here."

"Just… Travis, c'mon. This isn't you, I'm sure."

Right. Sure, okay.

"Go away."

"Please, I'll leave you alone if you talk to me."

I can imagine his heartbeat thumping in his chest. God knows mine is beating to all hell.

"Say what you want to say, and leave."

A little bit of quiet. Understandable, I guess.

"Does your dad beat you at home?"

Okay. Back to not breathing. This is fine. I guess he noticed I wasn't making a sound anymore.

"Travis?"

I cough. It sounds so rough. Is that what I sound like? Fuck.

"_Get out._"

"What? Trav—"

"Get out! You said what you wanted to! _Out_!"

He sighs softly. It's adorable.

"Fine. Okay," he sounds disappointed._ I hate it_. "Bye, Travis. See you around."

Sally face starts walking away. He stops for a moment by the sink, but keeps going after. I feel like fucking garbage. Why can't I get through one conversation with him. Fuck. I'm skipping the rest of school.

I leave the stall, and I'm about to open the door, but there's a piece of paper on the counter. Curious, I turned it over.

_You missed the trash can_

And then a phone number.

The trash can...? Oh Christ. Fuck no. Fucking please no. 

I take the paper and stuff it in my pocket.

Time to go. No way I'm dealing with this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying ok


	3. Snap

_Snap_.

Father pulled my hand too hard while he was dragging me downstairs. My wrist broke. It felt bad but not unbearable. Mother sighed and told him to drive me to the hospital. He said no. They started fighting, and I just went upstairs. I heard mother scream at him for a bit.

"Well I never even wanted any fucking kids!"

"By God, I you hadn't gotten pregnant, I wouldn't have married you!"

Well, there goes that family dinner. I was upset, or maybe angry. I was twelve, I think, so I know I didn't take it well. While they screamed downstairs I took a razor blade to my stuffed bunny. I'd named him Felix when I was a lot smaller and I still had it then.

_Slice, slice, slice, stab._

I tore him limb from limb. I screamed to drown out my parent's fight. I enjoyed it.

My left wrist was in so much pain, but I j  
could handle it. I handled everything.

Eventually I gave up and settled into bed. I put my wrist up on a pillow and tried my best to get a good night's sleep.

I couldn't process properly. I understood that my wrist was broken, that my dad did it, that he wouldn't take me to the hospital, and that all of this was bad. I just never registered why. All of this was just another event that blurred into every other moment at home. I remember thinking 'it'll fade by tomorrow, like the rest'

Nope.

Mother forced Father to let me stay home. She said "what would the teachers at school say?"

That's all it took, I guess.

Father went to work and Mother went out with friends. That left me alone. Me, myself, and I. Fun.

I sat in my room and picked up the shredded remains of Felix. I cried over the piles of fluff and patches of fabric. My wrist throbbed and my eyes stung. But I also remembered how funny it was. If I did it to a real animal, maybe it could be even funnier. I was alone after all.

I went into the forest behind the house and sat by the creek. A frog hopped over to me and landed next to my broken wrist. I slammed my uninjured fist over it. The only thing that came to my mind after that, was unsatisfying. I wanted more, but also wanted to stop. I was scared now, that I would go to hell for killing that frog. Also, though, that frog was below me. I thought I was better than it.

I went home.

Mother was already home when I got back. Not going to lie, I was horrified when I got home and heard someone inside.

She said something like "Welcome home, lamb" and I sat at the kitchen table.

"My arm hurts."

"I know, hun."

"I can't move it."

"It'll get better, Trav."

"I wanna cut off my arm."

"Travis, you know–"

"Just take me to the hospital–"

She smacked the back of my head as she walked by.

"Shut it," Mother opened and closed a cupboard, looking for something. "That's enough. You can stop whining, or I can call your father home."

Okay. Yup. That shut me up for a bit. It's not that I didn't like my father. I love him lots, he's my father, I just didn't want to face any consequences. Normal reaction.

"Sorry, Mother."

I went back upstairs to wait for dinner. My room had barely anything in it, and that's kind of just how I liked it. There was nothing anyone could've hid in or behind, and it also left me plenty of open space. Sure, it Also meant that I didn't have many places to hide, but that's okay. Everything was, and is, perfect.

Father came home tired and angry. He locked me inside the room I '_seemed to love so much_' and didn't let me eat. I understood. Laziness gets you nowhere in life and such.

I didn't sleep a lot. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a while. 
> 
> Please comment or leave kudos! They're the reason I write!


	4. Lullaby

Math sucks. Everything sucks.

But I'm not gonna say that, because it'd be rude.

I give the teacher a practiced smile as she walks by and go back to pretending I know what I'm doing. But it's all going to be okay. I'm just going to work in the church like father. What would I need to know something useless like math? Whatever.

That faggot Todd was the one assigned to tutor me. Damn queer, why should I even have to be close to him? There should be special schools for people this sick.

The teacher told us she was going on lunch and to play nice and behave.

I smile and nod before slamming my head on the desk after she leaves.

"What's the point of trying?" I mutter.

"I don't know, I'm not exactly enjoying this either."

"Look, just go. I'm going to inherit the church and work there."

"Hm," Todd flipped the page on the textbook. "What do you even do in your church?"

"Well we d–"

My hand flies up to my mouth and keeps me from continuing. I guess that's one of the 'things'.

The marks burn, and I can feel my face turn red. I struggle against my hand, but it's steady. Fuck.

'I'm sorry, please, I wont speak of it.'

put my hand down and picked up my pencil.

Todd looked pretty confused.

"The hell was that?"

Mentioning the 'things' was absolutely One of the 'things'.

"Nothing. Forget it."

I moved to the next question.

"What's that on your palm?"

Fuck. Okay. Another one, pays too much damn attention.

"Birthmark. Leave it."

"Can I see?"

"Fuck off. I'm not letting your fag ass touch my hand."

Then, I left.

But, oh lucky mc-Fucking-me. The freak bumps into me. Braided hair today? Pretty. No. Shit. Damnit.

"Watch where you're fucking going, freak!"

"You bumped into me, man. Not my fault."

Annoying fucking pacifist. Won't fight me like a damn fucking man. I can't stand him, but–

I want to pull out that beautiful blue hair, chunk by chunk, blood and screams eachoing in my ears. I want to eat him whole.

I smacked him down.

"You think you're better than me, _faggot_?" I yelled. I put my foot on his neck. "Well, you may as well fucking _repent_."

"Travis!"

"I'm gonna kill you, you fucking queer!"

"Stop, please! This isn't you!"

"_That's enough,_ Mister Phelps!"

Teacher. No, no no no no. They're gonna call him. I don't know what I'm doing, but I start running. I can't face anyone right now. The teacher grabs me before I get far, though. I crumple into a ball at her feet and cover my head.

"That's enough, Mister Phelps. To the principal's office," she let go of my hand and turned to Sally Face. "Sal, honey, you can go to the nurse."

He nods quietly. I can see it in his eye, he's… crying. I'm so close to screaming at him to stop. Stop it.

I remember the note left in blue ink. Does he remember it too? Fuck. Of course he remembers it. He fucking _wrote_ it.

I walk past the principal's office and keep going. She wants me to leave? I'll leave. I'll go wherever the fuck I want. She can't stop me. What is she going to do about it?

Fuck all, that's what.

Stupid freak. If it wasn't for him, none of this would happen. I'd be fine. I want to grab him by those stupid fucking pigtails and kick his stupid fucked up face in.

Just near the school, I go to my small spot so I can just be alone. I'm not sure why I like it, really, it's just an old shed with half the roof caved in. But it's mine. Nobody else knows it's here, as far as I know. And as long as I'm home by the time Father is, Mother doesn't care. I sit on the floor and stare at my palm. The small geometric symbol carved there makes me shudder. I hate it _so much_, but I know it's necessary. Father said I'm not to be trusted, and I need to be 'moderated'. Again, understandable. I always used to babble too much. It was annoying, but necessary. Just like how Father describes me.

I hum the lullaby Mother used to sing to me. I miss the days she would do that.

_“_  
_Round and round, on the head of a pin_  
_Dancing like the angels above_  
_Love the world and forgive him_

_No matter the pain you've been through_  
_He will save your soul_  
_And he'll do everything for you_

_Roses in your throat, snapping the thorns_  
_Goring my hope, yet you don't mourn_  
_Everything's irrational, but this stays gospel_  
_Without him, there's no escape from your hell _  
_„_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to Kermit suicide. Didn't work, did this instead.


	5. Figure it Out

Larry and Ash comforted me the nurse's office. I knew Travis wasn't exactly stable, but… he tried to kill me.

"I swear to god, Sal, I'm going to kill him."

"Ashley, don't. You don't know–"

Larry chimed in. "sal, dude, you have to stop giving him second chances."

"Yeah, Sal. He threatened to kill you. This is… beyond forgiveness. You need to stop being such a victim."

I bit my lip under my mask. _Maybe_…

"But– you guys see how he always comes to school with bruises?"

"You know how he acts? I wouldn't be surprised if he just got in tons of fights." Larry shrugged. "You can't defend him anymore, man."

"Yeah, Sal, just… let's bring you home. I'll get a note, hold on."

Ash left the room to find a nurse. Larry sat by me and gave me a hug.

"I feel like there's a _reason_, though."

"Assholes don't need a reason. I'm not leavin' your side for a while, though."

Larry ruffles my hair. I took it out of the braid when I got to the nurse's office. His smile brightens my day, like the best big brother in the world. Well… even if he isn't that much older than me. He looks out for me.

Ashley got back a second later with a note.

"She's not letting all of us go. Just one person to take Sal home, since Henry's at work."

"Okay, Ash. You know what we have to do."

Larry grins, and Ash holds up her fist.

"I win," Ash smiles smugly. "See ya later, Johnson."

She hoists me up bridal style and walks out of the room in a fit of giggles. We twirl in the halls, drunk on amusement. Larry always says she's too strong for her weight. I agree, but I don't want her to feel bad. It's kind of funny, honestly.

"Ash!" I laugh. "We– we gotta go to the apartments!"

More giggles. Ash and I walked out of school laughing like stoners. She drops me on my feet and tells me to walk.

I gasp dramatically. "How could you? I simply cannot go on!"

I sink to my knees and lay on my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of magenta. _Travis_…?

"C'mon, Sal, you really do have to walk. It's not that far."

"Ughhhhh, fine. I'll walk. Like a _peasant_."

We go on our way. I can't stop thinking of Travis, he's so weird. An absolutely unredeemable asshole, but there's something deeper. Something wrong with him.

Ash and I get to the apartments and I let her in.

"You good, Sal? You're just... staring at the wall."

I hadn't even realised I wasn't paying attention.

"Yeah, I'm good. Tired."

"Ah."

Quiet for a moment.

"Have you ever heard any rumors about Travis?" I asked.

"What?"

"Are there any rumors about Travis?"

Ashley, for some reason, always managed to get all the gossip. It was kind like her own superpower.

"Uhh… well, he's the preacher's son, so there aren't many, but…" she clicked her tongue. "There are the usual ones, he's gay, he always gets in fights, so on. Nothing special. Except the whole 'his dad's in a cult' bullshit. Nothing to that one really."

"Hm."

"Why'd you ask?"

"Just wondering."

Ashley laughs a bit and pulls me into a hug. We sit there for a little, just laughing and telling jokes.

I still can't get my mind off of Travis, though. It's weird. Something about him makes his face stick in my mind.

I'll figure it out.


	6. Faceless Face

_Thump. Thump. Thump. _

_Blue and sparkling. My hands run down his back, leaving gashes and scrapes. He's not screaming, though. He's just…_

_Laughing. _

_He's laughing at me. _

_I scratch harder, but he's still laughing. I scream and start tearing out skin by the chunk. I wrench a bone away from his ribcage. He's stull fucking laughing at me. Faggot. _

_‘You're the faggot here, Travis,’ I hear through the fit of giggling. ‘I'm not even gay.’_

_His fingers slither around my throat. How long has he been facing me? Whatever. He leans in close. His mask is gone, but I can't make out a face. It's there, I see it, but I can't tell what it is. It's indescribable. _

_‘But you love me, don't you?’_

_I punch, but he barely moves. _

_He whispers in my ear. ‘Faggot’_

_His voice is a cruel, cruel sound. It's a churning, deep red. It's not his. It's wrong. _

_He squeezes, blue heartbeat engulfing my senses. I can't breathe. He's strangling me. _

_‘Say you live me, Travis.’_

_‘I- I-’ My voice isn't working. My windpipe us on the verge of snapping. _

_‘Say it, faggot. You know it's true.’_

_‘I- l-love y-’_

_His thumbs press harder. _

_‘-You…’_

_The pressure ceases, and he stands over me. _

_‘Sinner. Faggot.’_

_I cough. ‘Wait- no-"_

_‘We'll have your blood.’_

_‘P-please, I-’_

_‘Your sin has been measured. Have fun at church,’ He gives a mad smile. ‘Baby.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very tired.


	7. That's Right

I woke up and sat bolt upright. What time is it? Father is going to kill me. 

I need to get home, fast. It's already getting dark, and with some luck, Father might already be drunk or asleep. But I'm not sure. Maybe I could just stay out here all night… but then I wouldn't have food for school lunch. Well, that's not so bad. I don't need to eat as much as I do. So that's fine. But I wouldn't have any clothes for tomorrow… that's also fine, I guess? Nothing in gym tomorrow. 

Nevermind. Going home is the only option. If I don't go home it'll notice and I'll be punished. If it finds me out of home it'll tell him. But I'm under a roof… no. 

Home is the only way.

I start running. I'm a good runner. My feet slam into the ground over and over. It almost hurts my ears. Thump. Thump. Thump. When I get home, I'm going to get it bad. Sneak in the back door? Yeah. That's good. Okay. 

The basement of my house is pretty big. I'm not allowed in most of the rooms down there. But, that's where the back door leads. I go through quietly, taking each step slowly and carefully. But it's not enough. The basement door flings open and a figure stands at the top. I close my eyes tight and prepare to be smacked. 

"Come in, Lamb, you look absolutely horrid."

Mother. Okay. I'm okay. 

"R-right. T-thanks, mum."

She puts her hand on my shoulder and smiles sweetly, bringing me inside. I sit at the table while mother goes into the kitchen and starts tea. 

"Your Father is working late. But you missed dinner, so no more food for you."

"Right. Sorry, mum."

"Just try not to get so distracted. You know your curfew."

"I know."

"And you know the consequences?"

"I do."

"Alright. I'll tell your father, and you'll accompany him to the church tomorrow evening."

My heart rate jumps. That's right. 

"R-right. I won't be needing any tea. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Lamb. Sweet dreams."

I walk up the stairs. I can't help but feel a bit scared. And hungry. Going to church always scares me. I hate the pain. Well, yeah, no fucken duh, Travis. Pain is bad. 

The ceiling lights are too bright. The cross on the wall is crooked. The floor needs to be vacuumed. The faucets need polishing. Everything is wrong. I don't wanna go to church. I hate going to church. 

The mark on my hand burns, like it does when I think these thoughts. Father always looks at me in the eye and shoves the mark in my face, asking ‘what does this mean?’. I always have to answer ‘Silence’. If I say something else, he'll take it and burn my neck. I hate him. 

I hiss in pain. Why me? What did I ever do to deserve this?

Nothing, that's what. Nothing. I don't understand. 


	8. Dissociation

I didn't sleep last night, but my hand burnt a mark into the sheets. Mother is going to be upset. 

The sun is barely up, but I still need to do stuff. 

I turned on the shower and stepped inside. The warm water sooths my aching joints. There's a couple burns on my arms from when I was tossing and turning and trying to sleep. God, that fucking mark has been getting worse, I swear. Every little thought seems to trigger some kind of reaction. I shouldn't think about it, though. 

This shower is nice. 

But I've never understood why I needed a mark. 

I shouldn't use all this hot water. 

Is silence really what it's for?

Father is going to be upset if I don't get out soon. 

But–

I turn off the water and step back out. The bathroom is warm. In the foggy mirror, I can barely see my bruised face. Good Lord, am I ugly. Busted lip, black eye, broken nose. Can't stand to even look at my face. It just makes me upset. 

Downstairs, I hear something. Clattering. Mother is making breakfast. Great. Well, I hope she is. She could just be drugged out of her fucking mind and throwing shit in the ground. Then I'd need to clean it up. 

I creep down the stairs, being as quiet as possible. The clattering stops as I round the corner. Mother is holding a bowl and there's some flour on her apron. Just breakfast. 

"Morning, Lamb," She says sweetly. 

Mother is always sweet. She's tall, with black hair and darker skin. I don't know what I'd do without her. Die, probably. Die. Especially since… 

"How did you sleep?"

"Hm?" Oh, that's right. I'm still talking to her. "Uh, fine. I slept fine."

"That's good.'

I sit down at the table and let myself slouch a bit. Father isn't around, I can relax. _But he could be around, soon._

I straighten up. 

"What are you doing at school this month?"

'Wha- oh, um… not a lot, I guess. Nothing interesting."

"Ah. Okay."

A bit more silence between us. 

"You can give my breakfast to Father, or throw it out. I'm not hungry."

She gives me a look. "Travis," she said quietly. "You eat what you are given."

"Yes, but I'm not hungry. I can eat it later, after church."

Another sideways look. She knows I'm not eating after church. But, she shrugs, and goes back to cooking. "If you say so."

That gives me a few extra minutes to get ready. 

If I hurry, I can leave before father even comes downstairs. I fix my hair. It still looks messy, but at least I look presentable. Can't fix my face at all, Though. My backpack is still full of homework, and I don't know what's due and what isn't. Not like father cares what I get, but whatever. 

He's going downstairs. I hear him. He walks past my door, briefly stopping, but then going on. I'll leave out the window. 

Slowly, carefully, I climb into the roof. Seems stupid, but I'm not in the mood this morning. I Jump down from the first floor and run so that he won't see me out the window. If I can just get to the school. If I can just make it a _bit_ further…

I fall. I trip on a hitch in the sidewalk and fall. I can feel a bruise forming on my side, ans my face is bleeding. But I just need to keep walking. Keep. Walking. Get through it. Be the good, strong boy you need to be. The mark on my hand relents, giving some relief. 

At school, I'm very early. Almost nobody's here. Just the band kids and a few theatre kids. I decide to go into the auditorium and watch them rehearse. Memories of middle school, playing the background music on the violin for this exact play. 

Everybody's laughing and dancing, singing the lyrics to that same song I remember from only three years ago, though it feels like forever. 

_Go in circles, old man Anders!_   
_Running with the cats!_   
_Don't feel bigger than the Sanders!_   
_Fighting with those rats!_

The dance looks like they're stumbling about drunkenly, but landing each step with grace. Beautifully done. 

Mrs. What's Her Face the theatre teacher claps her hands and yells, "Very good! Alright then, Seamstress' Daughter, we haven't put too much practice into this one."

A girl with wavy brown hair—I don't know her name, but she seems to be the lead—walks to the front of the stage with a boy standing across from her. There's also somebody else, a guy a bit further back, standing the same way as the one up front. His face cut nicely in the harsh lights, I watch and feel… _fluttery._ Like my heart is on my stomach. 

_I, am more than a seamstress' daughter_   
_I am not but a wife…_   
_I am more than a blacksmiths daughter_   
_Cut out for a tailors' life_

Her singing is lovely, and the song has such a different tone with that voice. Less authoritative, using the old quiet piano score, making it sound more somber. Quite a change from back in middle school. The guy up front sings next, his voice low and matching the mood. I can't even hear the words, but I know them by heart. 

_Yes, you are more than a worker's daughter_  
_Though I'd be happy with a wife_  
_You are much better than that average fodder_  
_You deserve a beautiful life_. 

The way he moves is mesmerizing, I can't take my eyes off of him. His entire little act, I can't believe that this is a person dancing. The movements are so fluid, like there isn't any energy being put into them. There wasn't anything like this back then. I'm almost a bit jealous. It's so much more beautiful than the kid at the front of the stage. He's doing the same moves, at the same time, but… better. He looks like he's mumbling something while he stares down at his feet, making sure he gets each step right. 

_Flawless_. 

Mrs. What's Her Face turns around to check some notes I guess, and she noticed me in the back, just staring at the stage. 

"Travis Phelps!" She calls you to me with a smile on her face. "Is that you? C'mon down here!"

Allen. Her name is Mrs. Allen. 

I wave and reluctantly walk down. She calls a few people over to introduce me I guess. Of course, I can recognize a few people. 

"Okay, this is Travis. He used to play our music for us back when he was in middle school!"

One girl, Natalie, looks at me a little awkwardly. She smiles and says hi, but still looks away. I point her out. 

"Hey, you, uhh… didn't you dump water on my head because you thought I was your brother?"

Her face went bright red. "Hey, I apologized! Not cool, Trav."

"I never got payback because you moved for a year, Naddie."

A few people laugh at the exchange. Including us. Things like these never happen anymore, and I miss them. Even if it's just saying a few words, or actually getting to know a couple of people again. I should get back into theatre. 

I can't see the guy, though. He's not out here. I quietly tap on Mrs. Allen's shoulder when everyone goes back to practicing, and decide to ask her. 

"Who's playing Daniel? That's just Adrian. He's new this year, making a lot of friends. Very talented. Why?"

"No, the guy in the back, who was dancing with the music."

She looks at me oddly. "There wasn't anybody in the back, dear. Are you alright?"

Nobody in the back? I saw him though. Maybe it was my imagination. Nobody could be that perfect. "Maybe a little sick. I'd love to stay and talk more, but I should get going. Bye."

"Bye, Travis. Hope to see you back in the theatre program soon!"

Yeah, right. I grab my book from my locker and walk to English early. Sitting in class, I stare out the window Until Sally Face walks in. His hair is in two bouncy ponytails and his mask looks as cold and emotionless as always. But there's still laughter from behind it. My whole face goes red and I turn away. Stupid Sally Face. Why can't he just go and die. The only people that'd miss him would be his faggot friends, and they could just go die too. 

The teacher starts talking, and I zone out. It feels like I'm not even in the same room. 

What's that called again? Dissociation or something. I doubt that's happening, it just for queers who get traumatized or some shit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a long time, so sorry for that. It's pretty long, though. I guess. 
> 
> I hope somebody reads this.


	9. Subtlety

I've never noticed before, but Travis looks… _wrong_, somehow. Like, he's handsome, but something about his face doesn't line up right. Like it's subtly fucked up. I just can't put my finger on it. 

"Sal, bro." 

I look back. It's Larry. He's got his gearboy, and is pointing at the screen. 

"New high score. Beat that," He said, with a shit-eating grin. Bastard. 

"You bet your ass I will. These reflexes haven't failed me yet."

He seems a little too confident in himself. I'm suspicious, but up for the challenge. 

The teacher walks in, sadly. So I can't challenge him now. But I'll defend my title to the death. She starts talking, and Travis looks up. From the side, I can see his jaw. Strong and visible, but in some way wrong. Like it shouldn't look like that, but it does. 

My head hurts just trying to figure out why he looks so wrong, so I just watch the teacher. She starts droning on about Shakespeare, which is probably pretty interesting. I like classical literature, but I'm pretty shitty at actual English. Least favourite after gym, probably. 

The intercom comes on, and o look up at it. 

"Travis Phelps, please come to the office."

I glanced over at him, and he looks as angry as normal. But there's that _something_ in his eyes, something that makes him look afraid. He's scared. It's subtle, I almost can't even see it. 

He gets up from his chair and leaves the room. I notice his hand shaking as he opens the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, all I can do until Christmas (I've had one lined up for then)  
In the meantime: AU ideas for me to wrote when I'm stuck on this? I find other projects help me get out of a rut.


	10. Understood

I don't understand. I don't understand it. Why was I called out of class early? School just started. It's the middle of class. 

The door to the office, almost as imposing as the front door at home. My hand is all shaky and weak as I reach for the doorknob. If I run, they might not notice. If father's in there, though…

I just open the door. Of course he's there. Why wouldn't he be? Father is standing there, imposingly. Just like always. 

Walking into the office is a bit difficult, but I manage. "Hello, father," I say with a fake smile. 

"Son," he replies. "There's been a couple of issues, and we need your help at church."

My eyes widen and I can't help but take a step back, hands shaking. I hope that, maybe, one of the secretaries notice. Nope. They're both staring at their books. Father grabs me by my wrist a little too hard. 

"Alright, ladies, we'll be on our way," he smiles. They smile back. I hide my face. 

He basically drags me to the car and tosses me inside. I'm stupid to think somebody would notice. _Anybody_. It's all my fault, anyway. 

On the way there, father doesn't speak. I don't expect him to. I don't speak either. I just try to hide in my sweater while he drives. 

We get to the church. It's big, it's, cold, and it makes me want to run away. But I can't. 

Father leads me into the church basement, where the walls are all stone bricks. He brings me through the dark halls until we reach the center. There are people, lots of people. I feel small. I am small. 

He lets my wrist go, and I feel cold. I'm hesitant, but climb up on to the stone slab. They pull off of my clothes and put them aside neatly, before laying Mr down and starting. 

I can _feel_ them carving. But I can't. I'm watching from behind them. I'm watching them smiling while they cut me. I'm not moving, just laying, with a blank expression. The wires are coming. They're touching me, and I'm violently pulled back in. 

I feel that again, and can't help but cry. When I cry, they dig deeper. It hurts. I hurt. 

Their whispers are rhythmic and give me something to focus on. The cuts feel random, but they aren't. If they were random, I'd die. I wish they were random. 

I want to die. Fast or slow, death is better than this. Whatever _this_ is. 

Is this everything? Is this all I can ever hope for?

Probably. 

I just decide to dream. Dream my sinful dream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmk looks like I finished this one early. 
> 
> Any AU ideas for me to write in my spare time? Will post results.


	11. Merry Christmas

Everything outside was tinted with a lovely blue. The edge of my vision was blurry, but that just made the giddy dizziness feel even better. 

Mother was on the couch, a needlepoint project in her hands, and father was stoking the fire. There was something in my hands… a little toy. A red train with little patterns and sayings etched into the sides. It's beautiful. 

The Christmas tree was standing in the center of the room, lighting up the place almost on its own. 

I could only think of one word:  
Cozy. 

Because it was.

I felt warm, and loved. 

I looked up at my father, grinning like the little idiot I was, and wish him a merry Christmas. 

If it had been any other day, I would've been avoiding everything and either hiding in my room, or in the snow. 

But that day, I felt good. Christmas is very merry. 

That year I'd gotten a cool symbol thing on my hand, and father said it'd help me be less annoying. Maybe that'll make him love me. Something has to. 

The train didn't move on its own, so I pushed it around. I made it go choo-choo and laugh. "Choo choo," is all I said for awhile. It probably got annoying fast, but Father was under close scrutiny. People were visiting. 

I played with the train at church, too. After sunday service, people commented on how quiet and precious I was. But they said ‘precous’ the way people say when they refer to a fine piece of jewelry, or maybe an heirloom. Made me a bit uneasy, but i got over it. 

For the first time in a long time, I did not have any bruises anywhere, for at least a month. Half of December and half of January. Incredible. 

  
I look out of the window and sigh. Mother is passed out on the couch and father is making… preparations. I never know what goes on. I don't deserve to. 

The train sits on my shelf, and I stare at it. It's real enough that I can tell the memory is real, but that's a present. 

I take a piece of crumpled up paper, and set it on my desk. This is something I've done every year for as long as I can remember. writing a little letter to Santa, then burning it. He's probably not real, but I can dream. Trapped in this giant, cold, empty house all winter. 

"Merry Christmas" I mutter under my breath. And, maybe, just _maybe_, somebody will hear it. That thought keeps me going. It gives me a spark of hope. Hope that I don't have the rest of the year. 

_Merry Christmas._ What a nice thing to say. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and happy holidays 💙💙


	12. Suffer Me

_Suffering. Suffering is a word I can feel in my lungs. It scrapes within my throat. _

_I'm suffering now. _

_Voices are tormenting me, and they're making me suffer. _

_I like it, maybe. I like how it rips through me, forcing me into agony. I can take the beatings, I can withstand the bruises, I can savour the pain. _

_Masochism. Sadism? I don't know what it is. It's a sin, so hopefully neither._

_That boy from the stage. The tall boy with the drop-off cheekbones and the almost too long green hair. The boy who danced so perfectly. He's touching me. His hands are running up my chest. He's scratching me with his nails. I can feel it. I can feel his smooth movement. _

_I like it. But i hate it. He's muttering silently, but I can see his mouth move. I want to know what he's saying. I try to touch him, but hand goes straight through his face, and he doesn't flinch._

_Why. Help. Suffer._

_His hands stop scratching, and now he's just holding me. He's cold. His eyes are washed out, like they used to be blue but faded over time. I still can't hear him. Comfort is luxury I cannot afford right now._

_He looks relaxed. He gets off of me and leaves, moving so smoothly it's unnatural._

_There's a door now. A big, white, wooden door. It makes a sound I can feel in my throat when it opens. The boy looks back at me, still relaxed. I can feel my wounds. He starts to close the door, slowly. Behind me, I can hear the familiar sound of father walking up the stairs. I rush towards him, forgetting about my wounds. I'll take anything over facing father. The boy holds the door open for me. _

_It leads to a little blue room with blankets and pillows on the ground. The ceiling is white with crown moulding. The only light is a candle set on the single, small table. _

_I know this room. I remember this room. The old daycare room at church. Little angels and clouds painted on the walls. _

_The door clicks behind me, and I know I can just sit down. For a moment. The boy is gone. My wounds are gone. _

_I'm… relaxed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ay yo greetings mAh peeps.
> 
> Any fantasy prompts for side projects? Will post results if I can.


	13. Why Though

I'm not even supposed to be at school today, but here we are. I'm sitting on the stage in the auditorium, homework sitting next to me, eating a shitty, thrown-together sandwich. My back is burning like hell, and I'm real close to nodding off right about now.

"Hello?" I hear from behind me. Weird, I didn't hear anyone coming in or walking over. I turn around to look. 

Tall, too-long green hair, and dancing shoes. 

"Oh. You, from that rehearsal," I say, a little bitterly. I don't know why, I just talk like that. Might be habit. I turn back aroumd, and he sits next to me.

"Oh, you saw that?" He replies. 

"Yeah. Good job, best footwork I've seen." 

Why the fuck did I say that? Faggot. 

"Um, thanks."

I tilt my head to look at him. Now that I really see him-

Oh dear Lord in heaven.

I scramble to my feet and step back. 

"What the fuck what the fuck _what the fuck_-"

"Hey, chill- are you alright?" His face flashes with concern before he relaxes. His unnatural, pale, translucent face, with those washed-out white eyes. This isn't real.

"Oh" he says quietly. "It's– it's alright, okay? You're not crazy. Just… calm down."

That's a little bit difficult.

"Um... You saw me, and you talked to me, yeah? You're not crazy. I promise. What's your name?"

"T– Travis…"

He smiles prettily. The type of smile I'd imagine Sally Face having. 

"Okay. Hi, I'm Roen. You can call me Ro if you want."

This is really fucking weird. 

"Um…"

"Sit down, Travis. You're skinny, you should eat."

"No, I'm fine. I'll just go…"

"Home? I dunno, man. You aren't looking to good, and I don't think you got into a fight at school."

"How would you know, huh?" I say, a bit defensively. I only got here at the beginning of lunch, so if course I hadn't. 

"Intuition."

Did mom put pills in my fucking breakfast or something? Wouldn't surprise me, she was probably just trying to help. 

"Um, are you dead or something?" I ask. 

He nods solemnly. What the _fuck_.

"I, uh, I have to go. I'll come back tomorrow. If you aren't here in gonna, I don't know, fucken... Kill myself or something."

He gives me a _look. _I don't know what it is, but I don't like it. 

"I'll be right here, then. See you tomorrow, Travis."

Roen walks backstage. He disappears behind a curtain, and I can tell I'm alone. Like a static I hadn't noticed suddenly stopped, and now there's silence. He's not here. Nobody's here.

I grab the homework and decide to go home. It's snowing more, and I'm tired. 

I'll get more sleep tonight, hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight so my phone yeeted itself to death, and that's why this is so delayed. Also, I drew Travis as Katherine Howard, no you can't see, he's a bottom, don't @ me.


	14. Let's Talk

I saw Travis. He just..._ walked by me_. Like he'd seen a ghost. He didn't talk to me, he didn't hit me. All he did was look down and walk past me. 

Now I'm standing here, watching him walk away. I sort of want to call out to him. He hasn't called me. 

"Travis?"

He stops and turns to me. He's got blood running down his chin, from his mouth. I'm not sure what to do. It's not a lot. 

I decide to walk towards him, slowly, like he's a fawn I'm trying hard not to scare away. 

"Nobody's around. I just want to talk."

"I've had enough talking today…" He mutters. 

"Please, I just want to talk to you. I can skip for the rest of the day. I want to get to know you."

He's hesitant. I've always been good at reading people. He's hesitant, but he wants to talk. 

"Okay."

Wait what? I honestly didn't expect that to work, but I'm glad. He'll talk to me. I'll get to talk to him somewhere and properly speak to him. I'm not going to take his hand, but I'll still lead him away. Maybe somewhere he wants to go. _Is_ there anywhere he wants to go?

"I... I have a spot. My spot. If that's okay."

"That's great, actually. Lead the way?"

He gives a little smile, and wipes the bit of blood off of his chin. the least sadistic smile he's ever given me. It's kind of charming, in a way. 

Travis starts walking. We leave the school, and go down a little path in the thin forest at the edge of the school field. After walking a bit through the snow, I see this tiny, run-down shed. He walks up to it, glancing back at me nervously, and shoves it open. I walk in after him. 

This place has pretty obviously been fixed up in a bunch of little ways. The giant hole in the roof was patched with a sheet, and there's no snow anywhere inside. 

He sits against the wall pulling his knees up to his chest. I sit next to him.

"How long have you had this place?" I ask. Travis sighs, looking down. 

"I don't know. I just found it one day and made it mine. "

I smile a bit. He's actually talking civilly. 

"Cool. I've got something too, with my friend," better not mention Larry, Travis hates him. "Why do you come here?"

"It's …" he bites his lip. "_Better, _this way. I like it here."

"Really? What about your house?"

His face falls from the neutral expression he had, crashing down into disappointment. "I'd rather be here."

I put a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugs it off.

"Is something wrong at home?" I decide to ask, after a moment. 

He sighs, tilting his head to look at me. There's this vacant expression on his face, like he's completely spaced out. I like it. 

"It's my business. I'm not going to get into it. My dad's just... stressed, right now, and it's putting a bunch of strain on my mum, which is distracting to me."

I nod, but I can't tell if he's lying. I guess growing up with someone as intense as Kenneth fucking Phelps could be stressful, though. 

"That's rough. If you ever really need to talk, call me, yeah?"

Travis smiles a bit and turns his head away again, but then his smile fades. 

"I don't have your number. I had to throw it out."

That... makes sense. "Alright. Here, I have some paper. Do you want me to write it out again?"

"S-sure. Thanks. I call you if I need you."

I write it for him, and he seems pretty satisfied. He tucks it into his like of homework. 

We sit, quietly, in this old shed. It's not as cold in here as outside. I check the time in the little wristwatch I have hanging from my backpack (It's a wonder it isn't broken, I know). 1:45. Plenty of time.

"When do you need to get home?"

"Um... Before five. My mum doesn't mind if I stay out for a bit, but I need to be home before my dad."

"Right. Do you want to go out for a bit? I know a nice coffee shop with great cookies."

He grins like I've never seen before. It's not... _not_ attractive. It's like nobody's ever given him anything, and I've just strolled over and given him the world. 

This will be nice. I hope that we have fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, guess who's got two thumbs and is writing fan fiction instead of studying for my exams next week???  
_this kinky bastard_
> 
> Other than that, tell me your opinion of the story!


	15. Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually do summaries but Travis and Sal basically go on a date here

Travis is smiling. He decided that he wanted ice cream instead of coffee or hot chocolate or anything. It's kind of cute, watching him sitting on a bench, all bundled up with a plaid scarf and a coat, surrounded by snow, eating two scoops of strawberry ice cream. I opted for hot chocolate, like a normal person. He's laughing at my jokes and my ramblings. He's looking at my hair, almost curious. I've never seen him like this. It's strange, like he's letting his guard down without warning. I don't want to question it too much, since he's really being very sweet. 

"I don't get how you can stand wearing so much winter clothes and _still _ordering a hot chocolate," Travis says with a nice smile. His nose is red from the cold, and he looks more like a normal person than ever.

"_I_ don't get how _you_ can walk around in this cold and _still _order a fucking _ice cream_!"

He laughs, and his nose scrunches up. It's cute. He's cute. 

I boop his nose, and he goes even redder than before. He turns away from me and laughs a bit more. I cannot stress how much I want to ruffle his hair or give him a hug. Seriously, it's unnatural.

"I like winter, what can I say? Can't help it."

This is kind of funny in a bit more of a disturbing way. I kind of brush it off, but Jesus Christ does he not have any self-awareness. 

"I'm more of a spring or autumn fan. The rain is always nice."

He looks down. "I never liked the rain. Snow is nice, though. You can play in it, you can make stuff with it…" he sighs a bit, squishing a chunk of snow in his hand idly. "And you can hide in it."

"Hide?"

"Yeah. Like, jump in and pretend you're in another world. Like you've got no problems at all, and everything fixes itself." 

"Huh. Never thought of it that way."

"Well, we were raised differently. You don't sound like you had strict parents."

"I didn't. My mom was always too sweet for her own good, and my dad's pretty lax with the rules."

He smiles at me. "Lucky. My dad's a real stickler for the rules. Be home by this time, do these readings, make this food, memorize this passage... "

"Hm. Sometimes I forget how religious your family is. And then I think about it for two seconds and feel stupid."

"Yeah... It's exhausting. You have no idea."

"Your dad's pretty intense. He's so loud, and commanding. Like when he came to school for that lecture."

"Ugh, yeah. That was embarrassing. And then he came home and gave me shit for missing half of it."

"Oh, yeah... Why did you miss it again?"

"I got a bloody nose, so I had to wait in the nurse's office until it was over."

"Damn... Do you get them a lot?"

"Tons. It's worse because I'm such a fuck up."

"Oh. I haven't really ever gotten a nose bleed. I mean, Other than..." I bite my lip. This is going well, I don't want to bring up how many nosebleeds he's given me. "Well, it gets really cold, and that sets 'em off."

"Yeah..."

We sit quietly for a little bit. I notice that Travis has snowflakes caught in his hair, making it look almost fluffy. I bet my hair looks like that, but less pretty. I check the time, just to have something to look at. 

_4:03_

We've got a bit more time to do whatever we want. But I don't know what I want right now, and I can't exactly read his mind. Maybe we can go to my place... no, he absolutely would not go along with that. School is over, so nothing interesting there. I also get the feeling that Travis's family wouldn't be happy about somebody who looks like me walking into their house.

Or, we could just stay here. It's already getting dark, and the orange glow of the light post above us casts dark and beautiful shadows over everything. If only I had a camera. If only I could just put this moment into a jar to look at whenever I wanted. It's just so pretty. The shadows, the falling snow, his cheery face. Like a shot in a movie.

I tell Travis the time, and he nods. His hair is a little bit bouncy. 

"I'll leave in a minute. My mum probably needs help with dinner, anyway."

His ice cream is long gone, now all that's left is the cone. He tosses it behind him and gets up, looking over at me. Blue tinted shadows and orange tinted lights, making him look like a painting, even if the black eye kind of ruins it. Though, it adds a bit of character, I suppose.

"Thank you," he says quietly, like he's scared someone is listening. "This was nice."

He starts to walk down the path that leads to the street. There is no way that he's walking all the way back to his house in _this._ I run after him and grabs his wrist. He looks scared before he looks mad.

But... It's not his usual mad. More of a frustration, rather than a random, irrational outburst. 

"Sal, let go of me."

"Are you seriously about to walk all the way back to your house? In this weather?"

"Yes. It's not very far. Let go."

"It's halfway across town!"

"I have a shortcut. Just … _please_, I need to get home. You don't need to butt in."

There's no more anger. He's just pleading with me now. 

If what I think is happening at his house is actually happening, I don't want to give him a reason to be punished. So, I let go. He pulls back his arm. But, before he leaves, I give him a little hug. Something nice for him, to make him feel nice. He doesn't reciprocate, but also doesn't push me away. I let him go, and he runs. Up the path, around the corner, and gone. All gone.

I feel suddenly tired. Home is definitely the best bet right about now. I wonder what's for dinner. Maybe it's macaroni. God knows I could use some.

So, I start on my way home. It's close, just a few blocks down, but it feels like forever in this weather. How on earth can Travis manage to get _all the way home _every day. That's, like, four times the walk I'm taking right now. And how can he _run_? I get that he was on the track team freshman year (and through middle school, according to Larry), but how the hell does he keep that up? Like, _damn_.

Maybe he's able to _because _he does it every day. If so, I have a bit more respect for him. 

Honestly, I had no respect for Travis before. I thought of him as the bible thumping bully from, like, a Stephen King story. He wasn't human, he was a device. I thought that, until the day in the bathroom. I heard him cry, and it clicked.

_Maybe he's a person, too._

I shiver and fold my arms. It's too cold in this town for someone to eat a fucking ice cream. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so gay
> 
> And yet, I'm good at math
> 
> Mysteries we shall never solve


	16. Drowsiness

It wasn't a date. Definitely. We were just hanging out. The warm feeling I got, that was just something else. I felt all floaty, but that's only because I was tired. 

Yeah. 

It was a mistake to try and run home in the snow. I mean, it's better than walking, and I'll get there faster. A little bit faster. 

I get in through the front door and wave to my mother. She grabs me by the wrist and looks me in the eye. 

"Why are you home so late?" She asks, more concerned than anything. 

"My... My friend wanted to hang out for a bit. So we did."

"Mhm. Alright, I'm making dinner. Just… stay in your room for a bit. Don't come down for dinner unless your father calls you."

"Can I take the phone? To talk to my friend?"

"No. Not tonight. Stay upstairs, don't fall asleep, don't be too loud. But…" she turns around and digs something out of the pantry. It's a box of crackers. Not soup crackers, the seasoned kind. "I know it's not a lot, but it's something, isn't it? Have a good night, lamb."

"Thanks," I mumble, taking the box from her hand. "Goodnight."

She smiles and lets me go. I love to see her smile.

Upstairs, it's cold. It's always cold. This house is a hundred years old, and it's obvious in every way. The lack of insulation, the stupid architecture, and my parent's bed. Stupid. I honestly wish I lived in a little house with _any_ kind of comfort. Not so say the furniture in my house isn't comfortable, but everything feels a little bit too old to be really, truly comforting. Maybe if I had a small house, I could go anywhere inside of it without the slightest chill. That'd be lovely. 

I glance at the clock on my way up. 

_4:42 _

I have a little bit of time to just sit and relax. To feel nice. Maybe shower, actually. 

Instead of going to my room, I go into the bathroom. I lean against the counter and just breathe. It's nice to have this quiet. 

When the water turns on i feel relief followed by wearing pain. I gasp and nearly fall. The cuts on my back are still not healed, and the shock of the water hitting them makes me cough. Cough blood. It's happened so many times, but I always hate it. I'll never get used to it. 

In the shower, I always think. Right now, I'm thinking about the guy—the ghost?—that I saw at lunch. I should check that out tomorrow. Maybe. Or, I could do the other thing, but I was mostly joking. 

Yeah. I should see if he's there tomorrow. 

His name's Roen. Which is... _weird_, for a guy. I think I knew a girl named Rowan in eighth grade. Yeah, she had a crush on me, for some fucking reason. I can't even look at pictures from back then anymore. I was fucking disgusting. My hair was too short, I was fat... well, not according to my mom, but she's always been a fucking liar. 

I wonder how she's doing... I heard that her family moved a thousand miles away or some shit. Good for her. Glad she escaped. 

The hot water is going to run out soon, so I'll get out. 

I wish the whole house could be as warm as the shower. 

I get dressed and go back into my room. It's like it always is. Empty, dull, and uncomfortably cold. I've got half a mind to set it on fire. But, then somebody would come and interview me. That wouldn't happen if I died, though...

That's weird. I keep thinking about dying. The concept has always been there, but it hasn't always been so... _alluring_. I can't for the life of me figure out why. Maybe it's because...

I spent some time with Sal, and we had fun. Now there's nothing more I want. Everything else is worse. I'm already the happiest I could ever be, and it'll all go downhill from here. 

Maybe after I see him tomorrow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heLP I'm a filthy European who doesn't know how miles work? They're so confusing???  
Why is America so confusing?????????  
HOW MUCH IS 1000 MILES????????


	17. Clean Mirrors

_I'm in a room full of mirrors. There's the sound of dripping water all around me. _

_If there was one word is use to describe this, it'd be "clear"._

_Because everything has a very crisp, __clear_ _image. I can tell where everything is, except the mirrors. I get closer, but never touch them. The floor is red carpet, the type you'd see in movies or on a gorgeous dress. That deep, decadent red. Almost like blood. _

_I know that the mirrors are there. I can see myself in them, and then I can't. Then I'm falling. _

_I'm falling down, into darkness. But I want somebody to be there with me. _

_I land softly on a black and white tile floor. The tile stretches on as far as I can see. The sky is an overcast grey. _

_There is a boy in front of me. Roen. He's lying on his stomach, and bleeding out. From his forearms. That deep, decadent red pooling around my bare feet. I'm not exactly sure why I'm not reacting. Maybe I've seen it before. Maybe I'm jealous. _

_The red stops flowing. I drop down into the puddle. Now, I'm drowning in it. The puddle, the opening at the top, disappears. _

_Here I am, choking on blood, alone in the darkness. _

_Mother's voice calls out to me, and I foolishly open my eyes. I'm watching long enough for her to be beaten by invisible forces, until I'm back on that tile floor, watching her bleed out as well. I don't want to go back into the puddle, so I try to back away, but it pulls me back in, back down. _

_And then I'm on the tile floor. _

_Sally Face now. He's making no sounds, and is just twitching at my feet. Bleeding out. _

_I reach for him, and pull him close. His blood is staining my clothing. _

_’Where are you going?’ I ask. _

_’Somewhere better’ he replies. _

_I want to go to that somewhere. I will go to that somewhere. _


	18. Side Affects

I'm going to see him again today. I'll get there early, both to avoid being near father, and to not be interrupted. 

Mother is talking on the phone downstairs, and I don't here anybody else, so I go down. My legs are all wobbly and my face feels hot. I think I'm getting a cold, but I'll live. Well, _that _won't be the thing to kill me, anyway. It'll be fine. 

I get to the living room, and mother is speaking to somebody on the landline. Next to her, though...

Is father. 

He looks at me, and trudges over. 

"Good morning, _Travis_," he says, with extra, horrible emphasis on my name. 

"G-good morning, father," I reply , tilting my head downwards, so I won't have to look him in the eye.

"Care to tell me about school a bit, and why you're in such a rush to leave?"

I can't help it. 

I'm not sure where it comes from, but I start running. I'm in shorts, a T-shirt, and socks, but I run. He doesn't react fast enough to chase me just yet, so I make it through the hallway and out the front door. I'm running down the street. I'm cold. Freezing cold. There's no way I can get all the way to school like this, and I'm definitely going to get it bad when I go home. Maybe if I get home super early, and clean the house top to bottom, he'll go easy. 

It's so cold. 

I can't go on much longer, but I push it. There's no way in hell I'm getting caught. My socks are wet and my toes are freezing, and I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it up. School is so close, I can see it. Right there, at the end of the street. Just... a little bit... further.

Finally, I'm at the door. My hands are shaking. My body feels stiff and frozen. I fall through the door and into the empty auditorium. It's dark, the seats are all empty, and there's a pretty boy sitting on the stage. I want to go to him, to pick myself up and walk over.

What if Sal saw me like this... He'd be horrified. Or worse, disappointed. 

I can't move. My vision is cloudy, and going in and you of focus.

Roen is looking at me. I can see him, he's looking but not moving. I'm so cold. Is there anyone who would come in and help? No, it's barely 7:00 am. I feel poisoned. Defeated. Like there's nothing behind me and nothing in front. I'm slipping away. Maybe... if… I... sleep on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to do it to em
> 
> Also, I'm late so yes this is two short -ish chapters in one day. Exams hit me hard.


	19. Sidelines

He looks half dead. Honestly, I can't stand it. 

If I could leave this stage, if I was alive enough to go over there and help him up...

He's looking pale, and his nose and cheeks are red. More worrying, his lips are blue. Nobody's coming for hours, and theatre club isn't today. _Maybe _the janitor around midday, but there's not much of a chance.

So, here I am, stuck watching my boy while he suffers. And he is _my _boy. Or was, at least. He doesn't remember me anymore, I don't think, which is good. I know he'd be upset if he knew I'd died. He's always been too emotional for his own good. I'm still a bit sad that he didn't even remember me after I told him my name. 

I remember being so happy to hear that he'd be coming to this school, but then seeing him. He was angry, he was loud, and he was injured. _My_ boy was injured.

He was so sweet in middle school. A giggly, happy, sweet boy. To some people. To me. I love him. I want to hold him and squeeze him. If he dies right there, all the way across this God forsaken room, I'll never be able to. That's worse than death.

Even though he caused my death, even though I did it for him, i don't want him to do the same. Death isn't all it's cracked up to be.

He's still laying there. 

"Travis?" I try, but he doesn't respond. "Hey, are you there?"

He coughs weakly, and I can see the blood dribble down his chin. What have those people at the church been doing to him? I can't stand it. I want- no, _need _to help him. For my sanity. But there's nothing I can do...

We sit there for an hour or two. I can hear the shuffling of people outside the door. So close, yet so far. All I want is for someone to burst in and bring him somewhere. 

As I think that, movement catches my eye. He's getting up! I can see it, he's getting up, struggling, but getting up!

I expect yelling, screaming, denial. But all I get is a tall, thin boy, resting on his knees, blood staining his chin, with a blank expression. He doesn't speak, he doesn't react, he just nods. He knowingly nods, and turns away. 

That's all I could truly want, I suppose. 

"Go find help" is the only thing I can say. He nods again, looking away from me this time.

Watching him struggling to stand, and then watching him stumble out of the door, that's all. He'll be fine, I hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, the next couple o' chapters will be a  
r o l l e r c o a s t e r


	20. My One Phone Call

I like Roen's face. It's a superficial thing to say, but I like his face. That's unimportant right now. At the moment, the important thing is the inescapable fact that I am coughing up blood. 

Not the normal amount (dear Lord, why is there a normal amount), but quite a bit more. Maybe that's why I'm so level-headed right now. That, and I'm still shaking off a couple hours of sleep. 

I'm not a hundred percent sure where I'm headed, but I'm almost certain it's home. Father's definitely at the church, and mother may well be asleep. After I clean up, I can call Sal to meet me after school. I'll take it as my final decider.

A last act, if you will.

This will be painful. Just as painful as walking to school. I walk through the small forest next to the sidewalk to avoid anyone seeing me, since there are a couple of people still walking to school. It's got to be at least 8:30 already. How long was I out?

Long enough I suppose.

Maybe I shouldn't even call Sal. I don't want him to feel upset. 

No, I only have one item on that list, and I need to cross it off.

I hear a familiar voice while I stumble through the forest. 

"... Which is why I refuse to use that cutting board."

" Seriously? Gross. Stay back there, I don't want to get infected with that image. "

Sal and... that weird girl. I don't know, all I remember about her is that she has long hair, and that Sal likes her. I'm pretty sure her name is Ash.

I want to hurt her. But I don't. I want Sal to be mine. But I don't want him to hate me. I think he hates me. That whole thing in the park could've been a lie. 

No, I'll call him. It'll work out. 

I'll call him to that bridge in the middle of town, the one that goes over the highway. It's a nice bridge, with all of the flower baskets in the summer. Mid-winter, it looks like any other bridge. Cold and grey and boring. 

Sally and Ash keep walking. I doubt that they see me, Sal would've said something of he did. 

"Do you want to see that movie next week?"

"Oh hell yeah! I love ghost stories."

"Why am I not surprised?"

They're a little bit further down, so I can keep walking. 

Come to think of it, I don't think father could've left yet, if school still hasn't started. Where should I go? Maybe I can hide in the basement, or that old dog house from when father was a kid (_was _he ever a kid?). I just need to wait a half hour. 

Maybe my place. It's better than home, father doesn't know about it, and I can get absolutely fucking sloshed. But it's freezing cold in there, too. 

I cough up some blood. 

This... has become a difficult situation. 

I'm not doing well. My clothes are soaked, I don't have shoes, and I'm practically throwing up blood. Which is less than pleasant. Maybe I should just go home and face punishment, just get it over with. 

I...

I'll hide in the basement. 

———

I was wrong, this is going to be much, _much _worse than walking to school. There's no adrenaline, just sore bones and frozen limbs. And the aforementioned blood hacking. 

Too much. 

But I'm close now. The sun is up and warm on my back, which helps. I turn the corner and walk down the street, carefully. Careful to not step in the deeper snow, and careful to not be suspicious. Just get past the back gate, into the basement...

The gate is lodged in the snow. It won't budge. I try my best, but it's not moving. Instead, I jump over. My ankle catches on a nail and slices halfway down my foot. It hurts. Today hurts. I don't like it, I wanna go away. I wanna hurt something. That will make me feel better. 

The doorknob is so cold that it stings my hands, but I manage to get it open. I'm not going to fall asleep this time, though. I'm just going to think sinful thoughts and let the mark warm me up. Or, burn me up from the inside. Burn me to a crisp. That'd be a sight.

There's walking upstairs. I can hear the larger footsteps of my father getting ready, and the lighter ones of my my mother, just pacing in circles. _How much longer_.

I rest my head against the shut basement door, and wait. The mark isn't doing anything. Maybe it knows when I want it to work. 

Everything down here is covered with a white linen sheet. It looks... Ghostly, like everything is haunted. I can only make out a couch, a piano, maybe an armchair... But the rest is all ambiguous. One in the corner, it's shaped like a bird. Maybe taxidermy, or a statue.

I never liked birds. They creep me out. 

Or dogs, for that matter. They're loud, and all they ever do is back and growl at me. I think it's the mark. They never did that before I got it. 

Maybe I don't like animals at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I realize I might've been a little bit late here, but I hope you enjoyed it! Tell me, since I can't properly decide, do you want a happy ending, or a bittersweet one?


	21. A Barrel of Hugs

I wake up slowly, seeing Mother at my side. 

"I heard you come in. You're frost bitten to the heavens, Lamb."

Suddenly, I'm hyper aware of what's happening. I'm in my parent's bed, with mother in a chair next to me, and I've got a bunch of blankets thrown over me. 

"W-w... Why am I all wrapped up?" I ask, though I'm fairly certain of the answer. 

"Darling, you're frozen half to death. I've got half a mind to set you by the fire with your hands and feet inside."

I smile weakly, and she smiles back. I love to see her smile.

"What t-time is it?"

"Half past noon. Your father left a while ago." She takes her hand and strokes my cheek rhythmically. It's nice. " Why did you run away so early, love?"

"I... I didn't want to get hurt. It's not nice."

"Well, you're more hurt right now than you think. Your lips were all blue, and your finger tips were, too. I don't like watching you get hurt, Lamb, but you need to remember that you can be hurt in other ways."

She cares so much, I forgot. Mother is so much kinder than father, and she's so gentle. 

"I'm going to make you some tea. I'm return, I want..."

"A barrel of hugs. .."

" ...for a basket of kisses. "

She kisses my forehead and gets up. "I'll collect my prize when you're a little less... Bedridden."

And, she's gone. I'm all alone again, but at least this time I'm warm.

Actually, I think that tea would be nice now. But... Should I call Sal today? My fingers and toes are still numb, and I'm beat up six ways to Sunday.

I... I'll call him. I'll get it over with, and finish up my business here. 

So that he'll know I'm a hopeless faggot, who's so helplessly in "love" .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you tell me if you like me please  
'cause I got dumb gay bitch disease  
I couldn't tell if you liked me  
If it hit me with a brick
> 
> E


	22. Desperation

Mother moved me to my room. I take a sip from my mug, the hot tea warming up my hands as I hold it. I've never been fond of Earl Grey, but it's better than ice water. My room is as empty as it's always been, but I've never quite been so grateful for the soft carpet than now, the way it felt so much better than the hardwood of the hallway. I can feel things more clearly than before, and the clouding in my vision has went away. At this moment, in this second of time, I feel almost alive. I'm warm, I'm cared for, and I can see so much clearer than than any other time in my life. It's less than anyone else, I'm sure, but it's different compared to my life.

That doesn't mean I want to stay like this.

If I stay happy, everything will be hollow. If I act like I did in middle school, hiding it all away, the stress would kill me. I want to be happy, I want to laugh, and smile, and do things all of th other kids could always do. They could always go home to their loving families and sit at the table without a care in the world. They didn't have to _act,_ they didn't have to live in fear _every second of their lives. _They just had to be themselves. 

I don't think I know who I even am. Am I _really_ happy when I smile? Do I _really_ like to run? Have I _ever _liked playing the violin? I'm not sure. Maybe once. Maybe when I was so small, and still lived that idyllic life of a little boy in a happy Christian family. A time I can barely remember, or even imagine.

Am I even who I say I am?

Probably not.

Then again, who is? Everyone lies and cheats and sins at least a few times in their lives. I'd know that better than anyone. Sometimes I just pray for forgiveness, even if I hadn't done anything wrong that day. Sometimes I do something wrong every day.

I'm humming the tune to a song I don't know, a song from before my time. A pretty tune, with a pretty story I can see playing out.

* * *

* * *

I haven't seen Travis since last night. I'm almost a bit scared for him. I think- no, I don't think. I know his dad abuses him. I know that letting him go back to that stupid fucking house was a mistake. I hope that I'll get a call from him, saying that he's fine and I didn't do anything wrong. That's selfish though. I'm being selfish. I only want him to be okay so that it doesn't weigh in me. I know where he lives, maybe I can check on him, get a real answer.

But I can't just do that. He'd deny it—he always denies it—and send me away. Mr. Phelps is an abhorrent father. I want Travis to be safe and sound. I want to see him smile like he did, and laugh, and feel safe. Come to think of it, he still seemed somewhat tense. Is he _always_ so tense?

I remember, in the first day of school, thinking he was cute. I asked Larry about him, but he gave me an answer that I couldn't figure out.

"Don't even try."

I wondered what that meant, until he caught sight of me. Then I realised. He ran over to me and kicked me into a locker. Larry couldn't react in time, but gave Travis a good beating afterwards. 

I'd seen fights at my old school, but this one was different. Travis fought differently. He would take punches and then go for the face. He always went for the face, nowhere else. And he'd get angry really fast, faster than anyone else. He'd yell slurs, hit people, and yet not a single teacher ever told him to stop. 

His dad has power in this town. Enough to cover up for his son and himself. Maybe even more. 

I don't know how much power Kenneth Phelps has, but it's too much for me to take down.

* * *

* * *

I don't like what's happening to my son. Travis is getting worse, I can see it. I begged him, I begged Kenneth to spare him. He could've chosen any child in town, but he chose ours. All I can do at this point is hope and pray that he doesn't succumb to the illness like that other boy, Roen. It was supposed to be him in the end. I told him that if he died, Travis would be safe, but he messed it up. He died _wrong._ He was supposed to die at the altar, not in just any place. 

I'm not sure what's happening now, but the world seems hell bent on taking my son away from me. I'm not going to oppose the church outright, but if he gets the chance to run away, I'd always be the first to cover it, and the last to organize a search party.

As I walk past his door, I hear the tune. It'll do him good to hear it, even if he doesn't want to.

* * *

* * *

I woke from a dreamless sleep to a dim bedroom. The clock on the wall says 3:31, and the ticking fills my head. An empty ticking, but it shows passage of time. I can call him now.

Getting onto my feet proves to be a difficult task. I'm unstable and in pain, but I'll push through for him. I need to see his plastic face and feel in in my hands before the final show. It needs to happen. I walk carefully down the stairs, seeing Mother sitting quietly in the living room. I clutch the paper in my fist, and she's looks up.

"Hello, Lamb."

"Hi mum."

"Using the phone?"

"...yeah."

"Okay. Remember that I love you, alright?" She smiles so sadly, it tugs at my heart. "Travis?"

"I'll... I'll see you in a bit, mum. "

"Alright."

Seeing her this way makes me second guess myself, but I know what I have to do. With an unsteady hand, I dial the number. It rings, and I can feel it pulling. It's pulling down even further. When someone picks up, I hold my breath.

"Hello?"

It's Sally.

"Hey, it's Travis."

He gasps. "Thank God you're okay! I was worried, you didn't show up to school!"

"Yeah... I was... Sick. "

"Oh, right. Anyway, why did you call?"

" I was wondering... " this is my last chance to back out. "Could you meet me at the bridge on Chris street?"

"Uh, sure! Why? "

"No reason, I just want to hang out."

"Awesome! See you in fifteen!"

There's a _click _as he hangs up, and I put the phone back.

"Bye, Mum," I call from the kitchen. "I'm going for a walk."

"Okay. Be home by five."

Right. I go into the entry way, taking my coat off of the book and putting on my shoes. I've got a bit of a walk ahead of me, but I can handle it, especially after I rested. The door slams behind me as I walk out into the falling snow. With the clouds, it almost looks like evening, even though it's barely 3:45. 

The snow is falling gracefully around me, and it nearly puts me in a good mood. If I could simply live in this moment forever, I would. But I know that I can't. 

Everything is perfect, the houses I walk past, the sidewalk I'm walking on, and even the road is completely covered. Not a snowflake is out of place here. That's why this street is perfectly suited for a sweet winter. Sweet but bitter.

The bridge is at the end of this street. It goes over the river so that cars wouldn't have to go around. Functional and pretty.

As I get close, I can make out a blue smudge against the full landscape. Sally is standing there, looking over the railing to the river. He almost looks too perfect. Milk white mask, blue hair out up into two ponytails, black coat, and a pair of navy gloves. I can't take the sight. It's like an angle has come to save me. I run, just to get there faster. I need to see him. I need him.

He hears me, and turns I'm my direction. He waves at me energetically, and I wave back with a smile on my face. 

"Hi! How are ya, Travis? You look exhausted."

"Well, you know, I was sick all day. Just got back on my feet for this, so."

He laughs, and I could die right now.

* * *

* * *

"So, why did you call me here?" I ask, and his face goes a little bit red.

"I... " he starts nervously. It's adorable. "I think..."

Travis shakes his head and just hugs me. I'm a little bit stunned, but I wrap my arms around him, too.

"I like you, Sally. I really, really like you. "

My heart skips a beat, and he holds me tighter.

"It's - it's not how a boy should feel, I know, but it's the truth."

I'm not sure what to say. The words are caught in my throat. What _are _the words? I'm sure I look stupid. He bites his lip in an ineffectual attempt to stop his tears from pouring down. But it doesn't work. He looks so vulnerable, and I've never noticed how beat up he is. This is all I need. This is my evidence.

He looks at me. We have a decent height difference, so it's more like looking down at me, but whatever.

He's crying, but his face stays in the same mildly shocked expression. I can't tell what he's thinking , but he's thinking fast and doesn't want to show it. His hands are shaky and grip my arms too tightly.

I decide on something to say. It's not great, but it's something. 

"Travis, are you okay?" I ask, putting a hand on his forearm. His nose twitches, I think he's upset… 

There's a moving van going down the road a little too fast. I don't know if Travis hears it too, but he does something. He's going too fast, and I can't stop him, but he breaks away from me and jumps the railing that separates the sidewalk from the road. He gets over it and stops, looking me in my eyes.

Right on front of the speeding van.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( •_•) 
> 
> ( -_-) 
> 
> ( •_• )


	23. Panic

The snow is suddenly so red, and the van stops a little ways down. It backs up, over to us. A panicked, middle-aged man jumps out of the driver's side. Blood is seeping into my gloves as I hold Travis's unmoving hand.

"What the hell are you doing just standing there!?" I scream. "Call 911, he's _dying_!"

The man gets back into the van, and he's dialling the number on his car phone. Travis isn't moving much, and his breaths are gargled by blood. His eyes are blank, but he's looking at me. Can he see me? Wait… Is he trying to talk? I can't tell... But it's not good.

"The ambulance will be 10 minutes!" 

"That's too fucking long, drive us there!" I'm screaming so loud, someone comes out of the last house on the street. We must be a sight. Two boys, one in a mask, covered in blood. One of them with his legs twisted backwards.

"But -"

"But what?! You clearly have no issues with speeding! Help me get him in there!"

The man just picks him up and puts him in the passenger seat after me. I'm still holding his hand. He squeezes it once, seemingly to tell me he's holding on.

"Stay with us, Trav. We're getting you to that hospital. You're going to be fine..."

Looking at his face, I don't think he can see me. His eyes look... Dead, like they aren't seeing anything. They're bloodshot and the pupil looks weird. 

"Step on it! He's losing blood!"

The driver does so. Travis coughs up some blood, and properly turns to me.

"Sa... Sally... "

"Shh, shh! You're gonna be fine, stay with me."

"Wher - I can't -"

"Just, don't talk we're almost at the hospital."

He turns his head away again. His hair is stuck to his face with blood. The scene is so gory, it reminds me of... Then. I can't imagine what pain he's in, but I hope he passes out, so that it won't be as bad.

When we get there, a nurse takes one look at him and whisks him away. I'm helplessly watching while they roll him down a hallway.

"You got parents, kid?" The driver asks.

"Um, yeah."

"Do you need me to call them? "

"No, just... You wait over there. I'm staying, and I'll call my dad by myself."

He shrugs and walks off.

I don't know what to do while I wait, so I go to the pay phone on the wall.

It rings a couple of times, and dad picks up.

"Hello?"

"Dad? Travis got hit by a car. We're at the hospital."

"Oh my god, are you okay? Do you want me to get you?"

" .... " I don't know if I want to leave yet. Sure, I'm worried about Travis, but he won't be stable for a while. At the same time, I don't want him to wake up alone. "No, I'm going to wait until I can see him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I mostly called to tell you where I was."

"Alright, son. I'll bring you some food later, and call me when you need me."

"Okay. Bye dad, love you."

"Love you too, sport. Hang in there."

"I'll try."

I hang up and go to sit down. My hands are covered in blood, so I don't want to touch anything else.

Dad's coming with food, so I can wait for that. And it's gonna be a few hours, maybe a day until I'll get news.

The image is stuck in my head. The image of him looking so shocked, yet so expressionless. The image of him looking at me in the eye before jumping in front of a car. At least it veered slightly, so it only got an arm and his legs. I think. I don't know, that second is a blur. It's rewinding over and over. The look in his eyes, before and after. The way they seemed to swirl in the faint light, before going dull. Then, afterwards, how they didn't see at all.

I need a shower. I'm covered in blood, and that _can't_ be good for me, I'm pretty damn sure.

Maybe I should've gone home with dad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the tags m'dudes


	24. Yes or No

My head's pounding, and my arms and legs won't move. It's hard to breathe, too. Also I can't see. My eyes are open, I can _feel _them open, but I can't see. I'm... Really scared. What's the last thing I did? I told Sally my feelings, and then, rightfully, jumped on front of a speeding van. Where is Sally now? Where am _I _now? Am I dead? Is this what death is? Pure, empty, painful nothingness?

_Is this Hell?_

I hear some clicking, some footsteps, and an old man clears his throat.

"Your name is Travis Phelps?" He says, and I just get more confused. Am I in a hospital?

I try to speak, but nothing gets through. It's a horrible gargling, I can't even tell if it's _my _voice.

"I'll take it as a yes. Do you know why you're here?"

I try to nod my head, but pain shoots up from my neck and through my skull. I _definitely _got hit by a van. I'm scared, I'm cold, I'm confused. But I'm not dead. I'm still alive, and I'll be able to see Sally again–

But I can't see.

"Another yes, I'm assuming. Well, there's a young man who has been here for nearly two days waiting to see you. One Sal Fisher, do you know him?"

I settle for giving a pained smile. The doctor sighs and walks out, and then there's some more clicking. Lighter footsteps now, absolutely belonging to Sal.

"Travis, are you okay?"

I can hear how hoarse and strained his voice is. 

"Can you speak?"

He rests his hand on mine. I can't make a sound. Everything seems to be going too slow, or maybe too fast?

"I guess not."

That voice hits me like a brick. Or maybe a van. He sounds so sad, I want to help him. 

"Well, how about this. You can move your left hand, right?"

I move it a little, squeezing his hand.

"Right. We can talk a bit. One squeeze for yes, two for no. Ready?"

_Yes._

"Perfect! Um... can you see?"

Two squeezes.

"Oh. That... That's why you looked like that in the car."

My hand stays still. I can tell he's not doing well, but there's nothing I can do.

"Um.. No! No, we're gonna be positive. Do you want to hear a story Todd told me?"

Todd is the ginger one. He's gay. I guess I am too, huh? I'll hear him out.

"Great! So, he and Neil—that's his boyfriend, by the way—were going over to Wendigo lake for a picnic with Todd's parents. He said everything was going well, until _BAM!_ It starts pouring rain. Todd gets a bit nervous, but Neil keeps a steady head and helps him clean up. Todd's parents were in their car by now, by the way, so it was up to them to get all of the food back safe. I don't know if you know, but Todd doesn't do so well with rain. He just hates it for some reason? I'm not sure. But Neil was really sweet, gave him his hoodie, and got the rest of their stuff by himself."

My hands are shaking. My hand? I can't feel the other one. I want what those guys have in the story. I want somebody to care about me like that, but...

"Oh, uh... are you okay, Trav?"

I say yes.

"Are you sure?"

I keep my hand still. Or, as still as it can be when my body is shaking so badly. I want to cry , everything hurts so much. I want to scream, I _need _to scream, I-

I can't take it. It's unbearable, I can't take it. Tears pour down my face, and Sal gasps. He knows he can't do anything, he's smart, but he wants to. He wants to help me.

"I'm -" he starts , before someone cuts him off.

"Er- hello?" Mother says quietly. _She's here. _"Who might you be?"

Sal is immediately caught off guard, but he's good at thinking on his feet. "Oh, my name is Sal Fisher. I'm friends with Travis, I was just here to see how he was doing."

He lets go of my hand. I don't want him to.

"Ah, I see! Well, I'm his mother. Would you mind if I had a few moments alone with him?"

I can tell he doesn't want to go. Or maybe I don't want him to. Not sure anymore. But, he does, and mother takes his place next to me. I can't see her, but I can hear it in her voice. She cares.

"How have you been, Lamb?" She says quietly. I can tell she's expecting no answer. Like I'm a kid's doll. "That's lovely. Look at your face, all messed up."

She touches my cheek, and I wince in pain. She still doesn't seem to care. I'm really a doll to these people, aren't I. I'm a product to be owned. A toy to be played with and broken.

"The nice man in the lobby told me about how you were laid out over the pavement. I can't imagine it."

Mother has never been all there. She's always been a little more airheaded than anything, and I've never seen her show any strong emotions. But she sounds angrier and angrier by the minute.

"Travis Joseph Phelps," She says coldly, holding my hand tight enough for it to hurt. "Why would you put me through this? Your own mother? My own son? You're tearing apart this family!"

She's getting louder, and she grabs on to my shoulders. It hurts.

"Do you know what you've done?!" She starts screaming , shaking me violently. It hurts, it's agony, but I can't escape. This is my life now. My life is this fucking agony I never asked to be in, and was denied when I tried to leave. "They're going to get you! They're going to take away my baby boy and- and-..."

I'm scared. She breaks down crying on the floor, and there's nothing I can do. I can't speak, I can't see, I can't move. All I can do is wait. Wait until something happens. Until she calms down.

Her sobs get quieter. The pain I felt in my whole body slows down to a dull throb. She stands up, I can hear it, and takes a few deep breaths.

"I need to go, Lamb. But I'll come and see you tomorrow."

With that, she kisses me lightly on the forehead and leaves.

Sally is right back a moment later.

"What the hell was that?" He says quietly . "Are you alright?"

_No._

"Do you want me to get a doctor?"

_No._

"Um- okay. Just this once, I'm gonna go against my better judgement for you."

I smile a little bit, and hear him sigh. I love his voice.

I love _him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _laughs in useless homosexual_  
My boy will have an ending, and it'll be happy as fuck.


	25. The Best Thing

Travis has been in the hospital for a little while. He's able to talk now, a bit, but he'll be permanently blind in his right eye. His left eye will heal well, at the very least. That's something. He'll also need physiotherapy after most of the stuff is healed.

I sit at his bedside, holding a little bouquet of spring flowers from Todd's little indoor garden. He says that his parents insist he has one, so he decided to grow petunias instead of their... alternative. Travis smiles and smells them.

"Thanks, Sally. They're nice."

His smile makes me feel a bit happier. "I'm glad you like them. How's your sight today?"

"About as bad as yesterday. Dull and blurry colours."

I've been thinking this over for days, but maybe not yet. Another day.

"That sucks. Your voice sounds better, though."

"Really? I guess I haven't been noticing."

Our conversations always go like this, until I eventually leave. They're short, they're a little forced, and I can tell he's pretty checked out. I'll try to bring up the thing he said before it happened.

"Travis? About the-"

"I meant it."

Well, that was something... unexpected. "Umm... I dunno"

"That's - you're right. I'm stupid, you can leave."

"Wait- no-"

"It's okay, nevermind."

His face is sad. He can't quite see me, but I know he's refusing to Look in my direction. I'm not exactly sure what to do. I'm usually so good at this, I'm almost panicking. I could always read people, I could always tell what was going on by the look on their eye, but there's nothing there. He just looks sad, how do I fix this, what do I-

"I'd like to hear just what you think of me."

I'm not sure what happened. The words just slipped out, and Travis whips his head around before wincing.

"What?" His face goes bright red, and I can't help but smile. He's adorable, and I'll hug him the moment he's able to be hugged

"Just... Tell me what you think of me. Pretty simple. If you don't wanna say, I'll come back again later."

He just stutters for a few seconds before cohesive words can be made out. His voice is scratchy and he's speaking quietly, but I hear those words clearly.

"I think you're the best thing to ever happen to me," Travis says, his voice shaky as if he's about to cry. "You were everything I lived for."

"What do you mean?" I say, but I think I know it.

He smiles fondly. "It's kinda funny. I looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky. But now, now I can't look at you at all."

"You looked at me like I started world war II."

"When other people were around. But you shoulda seen me when I was sitting in the back corner of a class, and you were a couple rows up. I was in awe. You were so perfect, and smart, and your hair was so pretty that I just wanted to touch it."

My chest feels warm. Just that _feeling_, it feels so nice. I've felt this before. I've felt so warm and fluttery.

"...Sally Face?" 

I snap back to reality. I must've spaced out. "Yeah?"

Wrong thing to say.

"Sorry if that came off weird. You can leave, I won't be upset."

" ... " think of something oh god Sal I thought you were smart. "How are your back and shoulders?"

"Um..." He looks so confused . Good, surprises are good. "Fine, I guess?"

I wrap my arms around him and rest my head on his shoulder. Travis shudders a little bit. "I have to go, but I'll see you tomorrow. Alright, Trav?"

He lifts a shaky hand and half-reciprocates the hug. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time on Dragon Ball Z: 
> 
> Gay panic ensues


	26. Chew

I love him so much. I love him so, so much. He's everything I've ever wanted and more. Why did I ever want to hurt him? He wouldn't hurt me. He's so pretty, too. Even though I can't properly see, I can pick up the blue on the dull hospital background.

Everything's felt so much clearer since I woke up. I can feel, hear, smell better. And I can think better. I think, now, about everything I've ever seen, and why I don't want to see it again. My father, his house, my room, the church... If they disappeared maybe I wouldn't care. Maybe I'd be happy.

He's coming to visit later today, and he said he'd bring Todd. I don't know why, I think it's to help me feel a bit better about this... whole situation, I guess.

Oh, another thing. Since I got here, the dreams have stopped. Dreams. Nightmares? Whatever to call them, they're gone. I'm happy, I guess, since they were so fucked up. If I'd never had them, maybe I'd have been a happier kid.

I hear the door open, and someone walks in.

"Sally?" I want slowly, a bit unsure of myself.

"It's me, Lamb. Mum."

It's her, and another person. I hear them breathing. "Who's with you?"

"Your father, we're just stopping by."

I can hear him clear his throat, but he doesn't speak. My whole body tenses up as I hear him make his way over. I'm so glad I can't see, or else I wouldn't be able to stop myself from screaming. He gets closer and closer, each step echoing through my brain. Everything that's ever happened, every beating, I can hear it in those footsteps. Those footsteps define my poor excuse for a childhood. He's getting closer still, why is it taking so long? I can feel my own heartbeat, it makes my vision flash red. My heartbeat has always looked red. Time is so slow, but my mind is racing at a million miles an hour. What's going on? Where am I? Who am I? I'm so scared, somebody get me out of this hell that is my mind, and-

"No bad choice goes unpunished, son," Father mutters, just loud enough so that I can hear him. The phrase makes me stop everything, and all I can hear it my heartbeat. I'm petrified. "See you in four months. "

And I black out. I'm my head, the phrase replays over and over again. _"No bad choice goes unpunished"._ I'm fucking scared, but I can't fall back into the tar. I can't sink so deep ever again, I'll never escape. The boiling tar that destroyed my nights and scarred my brain.

"Wake up call, Trav," Sally says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. So calming.

"Hi Sally," I reply a little quietly, sitting up properly. "And Todd, right?"

"Uh- yes. Hello," I hear Todd's nervousness. Can't blame him.

"Hi. And, sorry. I'm really sorry."

"Apology... Mostly accepted. I'll come to a conclusion when I decide I have enough evidence."

I clench my fist. "Isn't an apology enough? Sally said-"

"I _said _he _might _forgive you if you apologized. And he's giving you a chance. "

Sally squeezes my arm, for comfort I assume, but I don't like it. I don't stop him, but I hate it.

"Fine. Sorry."

Todd shifts in his chair, and I can tell he's uncomfortable. Even if I used to hate his guts, hate that he could be so open and happy, I feel bad making him stay.

"You two should leave, actually," I mutter, and there's some sort of confused murmur between them. 

"Why!?" Sally exclaims, more loud than normal.

"I'm sorry for being an inconvenience, but you should go. It's just not the right time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a raging lesbian and also I'm ace.
> 
> Unrelated, I'm sorry for not posting in a while. No excuse, just a short chapter that's five days late.


	27. Baby Steps

"You're starting Physiotherapy tomorrow, correct?" I ask, trying to make some sort of conversation. Travis nods his head, but isn't looking at me. He simply won't face me.

"C'mon, Trav. It's just us," Sal rubs his shoulder, but he still won't face us. "What's wrong?"

I can't see his face anymore, because he's almost completely turned around. 

"Travis," Sal says sweetly. "Tell us what's wrong."

He shakes his head. Sal told me about the incident, and Travis's injuries. I never quite hi it off with Travis, but I'd be Just fine with trying. There's no risk of him punching me anymore, so I decided I'd give it a go around.

"Travis-"

"What _isn't_ wrong, Sally?" Travis snaps. He looks quite upset. "This whole time, when has _anything _been good, or fine, or alright? They won't even let me leave my bed! I want to. . ."

His eyes drift towards me, and there's a small pang of fear. I'm not good at reading facial expressions, never have been, so I can't tell what he's thinking. 

"Sorry. I was yelling. I'm not supposed to yell."

Sal starts comforting him again. I love Sal, I really do, he's a great friend. But his heart is a little to soft to take care of someone like Travis. He's loud, and violent, and prone to anger, while Sal can't muster the courage to tell him to calm down. It's almost sad to watch.

"It's okay, Trav, you don't need to apologize, you just got a little -"

"Sal, can I talk to you outside?" I ask, getting up out of my chair. He looks at me and seems sort of confused.

"But what about Travis?"

"He'll be here when we return."

Sal lets go of Travis, and stands up. We walk out of the room, and I close the door behind us.

"You're too kind to him," I say, and he immediately seems to have been caught off guard.

"What? Todd, you know what he's been through..."

"Of course I do, but being abused is no excuse to act in such a way."

"I'm trying to be kinder to him, and show that I'm not mad at him."

I sigh and rub my temples. "Sometimes, you _need_ to get mad at people. If they feel bad, then they learn a lesson. You need to be stern with him."

"But you saw him! He apologized when he started yelling, and- and-"

"He apologized because _I_ was there. Not just that, but being so soft with him will, essentially, spoil him. I'm not saying you should yell at him or threaten him, but you need to put some finality in your voice. Show him that you are not going to let what he does get past you."

Sal looks down. His posture is a bit off, and his arms are crossed. "I just, I don't know..."

"It's for his own good, Sal. If he doesn't learn, he'll never really be able to grow as a person. Even if it's difficult, and you don't want to do it, you need to stand up to it. Otherwise, he'll just be like this forever."

His eyes scan my face, and he turns away. "I'll try my best. For him."

"For him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, late chapter. Just as bad as the last one, and probably not worth the wait.


	28. On hiatus

Hello, I'm the author. I'll be putting this work on hold for a little while so that I can focus on other things. I know, if anything I should have more time, but it's really not true. I've got plenty of sources of stress, and this work is one. I'll be back eventually, but for now I'm going to work on getting the help (and medication) I need for my various issues.

See all you beautiful souls on the other side. I'll be back in a couple months. 


	29. Made of Glass

Sally is sat in a chair next to me. I'm in a big wheelchair, and feel way, _way _too nervous to stand. What are they going to have me do? And I'm half blind, so it's not like I can really _see_ what they're setting up. This type of thing always has me on edge. You know, not exactly knowing what's going on?

My hands are shaky. Sal grabs them.

"It's gonna be hard, Trav, but I believe in you. You can do it."really

I look at him, and he's little more than blurry image. But that blur is beautiful nevertheless. It's almost like he's an unfinished painting, where the colours are still being blocked in.

"I just want to go home already," I say, but I'm not sure if it's true. There's ups and downs that go with being at home. But it's better than the flatline of the hospital. 

"Travis," Sally squeezes my hands gently. "No."

"It's just... better than here, I think. "

"You know that's not true. But, maybe we can do -"

The doctor calls me up, and a nurse pushes me over. I don't know what Sally was suggesting, but I think I have an idea of it.

* * *

The nurse ushers me out into the hallway. "Sorry, but his father requested that he not have people with him during the therapy."

"Can he do that?" I ask, trying to look over her shoulder. It doesn't work. I'm too short.

"Since Travis isn't a legal adult, everything is left up to his father," She seems a bit disappointed by it. "Just not who visits him."

"Mr. Phelps can kiss my ass, let me back in there."

"Believe me, kid, I would if I could. That Phelps man is someone I'd hate to associate with, but I need my job. So, you can either sit out here for an hour and whine, or go out and do whatever it is you kids do now."

I think about protesting a bit more, but I just stop. I could grab something to eat and bring a snack back for him. Nothing to be afraid of, he's in a room of medical professionals. 

"Alright, Ma'am."

Todd's right. I need to be less protective of Travis. It's just so _hard_, I don't have that capacity. 

Standing in the hallway, it hits me. What if we helped Travis escape? Just get him on a train, and watch him go. I'd do anything to get him out, away, and safe at this point. 

For now, though, I'll just get some McDonalds and run back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and awful. Couldn't get past a draft on this chapter no matter how hard I tried. 
> 
> I might abandon this, bc I lowkey tried to kms over my break and associate some bad shit with this fic. 
> 
> Either that or I'll post the rushed ending to it, for some closure, but I sincerely doubt that anyone was _that_ invested in this story at all.


End file.
